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Invasion of another kind.; PG-16: Violence and gore.
Topic Started: August 2, 2010, 9:51 pm (199 Views)
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Invasion of another kind.
The night, dark as a velvet cloak of black and blue, drenched those beneath it in its calm demeanor, chilling the forest, the mountains, and the plains in its indifferent embrace. Dusky yellow-purple clouds loomed in an almost menacing manner, covering up the dead shards of soul which were the stars. The only light which shone down was an unearthly silver, brief in its conquest to light up the world below, before the clouds covered that, too. It was, however, long enough to cast its illumination so that every part of the continent had a smidgen of that light. The heavy crags of the red-stoned peaks remained untouched by such a feeble light, but snow which layered heavily on the very highest of these giants glittered and sparkled like diamonds, while the mysterious canopy of the forest shimmered serenely under such a delicate touch. The prairie grass was ignited by the white beams, shining brightly, and were interspersed by large conical objects, whose leather exteriors were shown to be covered in tribal paintings and decorated with animal skins.
Among the range of the mountains, all was peaceful. Nothing stirred; in these peaks, it was ill-advised to even poke one's nose out of one's den for fear of frostbite. Dense patches of wiry grass grew in a haphazard manner, small yellow flowers peeping out from between each blade. Beneath some of these patches were small crevices, made comfortable by duck down and rodent fur, and it was in these that mice resided, each little body pressed against another for warmth, tiny whiskers and ears trembling at the slightest disturbance of silence. Other bodies, in deeper, warmer, and better protected caves and crevices, spoke in solemn tones, stroking their beards and sharpening their axes.
Large caves, easy to find, but much more dangerous to disturb, are mainly inhabited by cave lions or bears - monstrous creatures with the strength of ten men and the hunger of twenty. Their pelts, no matter how ragged from rare encounters with one another, are prized by all, for their voluminous, warm fur and how difficult they are to come by. None were awake at this hour, however, so let us move on.
The gently sloping curvature of the plains were also still; the calmness, before the storm brewed and annihilated everything. The lively trickling of a youthful river was accompanied by the rustling of footsteps, and a hunched figure stooped to part the long grass. At that moment, the clouds chose to part, and the steady beams of the moon illuminated the strangely garbed being which was cupping cool water in its calloused hands. Although colour was hard to distinguish in the pale moonlight, its skin was obviously tinged a bright blue, from the many tattoos marking its skin. A shock of vibrant orange hair, which seemed to defy gravity, gleamed a pale gold. A few strands of it, seeing sense, brushed the creature's equally bright eyebrows, whose ominous frown shadowed beady black eyes and supported sun-weathered wrinkles, on an almost golden skin hue where the tattoos did not mark it. Between the hawk-like eyes ran a hooked beak of a nose, a shard of bone piercing the cartilage between the nostrils and showing the being's capacity for pain; such operations would have no anaesthetic but pain itself. Cheeks pitted with scars, and a wide mouth leering, were not the only demonstration of strength and intimidation. Coming from the lower jaw were two long tusks, yellowed with age and the points dulled with use. Many chips along their length indicated a strong warrior, and bands of precious copper wrapped around each were not just there for support, but for status. Travelling from the pointed, jutting chin downwards into a skinny, bony neck, wiry muscles were evident in the round balls of the troll's shoulders and disproportionately long arms. His hands, with sharp nails clogged with grit and grime, raised themselves to his wide mouth, and poured the water they'd collected into it, avoiding the pointed fangs which made up the majority of his teeth.
Another disturbance nearby made the troll turn, his small eyes focusing on a point where a massive, lumbering shape was crashing clumsily through the grass. The monstrous being was extremely broad in the shoulder, with thick ropes of sinews jutting from his wrists, and enormously broad shoulders. The wiry troll could sit quite comfortably upon one, and still have space for his war-axe and tent. The orc's ridiculously upturned pig's snout quivered as he seated himself, that massive barrel chest rippling with muscle.
He turned to the troll. "My friend, we must do something about the demons," he spoke. The two were friendly enough that they did not require a greeting, it seemed; perhaps they were continuing a conversation from previous times. "Already, three clans have been lost. At this rate, our army will not even be able to defeat a single battalion of those foolish, snapping elves." His voice was deep and gravelly, powerful but still respectful. The troll peered to his side, at the creature with his muscular, almost barbaric, limbs. He was nearly amused at the look of forlorn solidarity upon the pig-like face.
"If that is your concern, then we will act upon it. I think that these demons will be difficult to defeat, however..."
The rest of that dark night was forgotten in history, but it was decreed soon after that, for the first time in three hundred millenia, the tribes of the orcs, trolls, and the faerie folk would unite against a common foe: demons. None knew what they were. Nobody knew where they came from. All that they could comprehend was that this was their land, and nobody else was having it.
The demons did not show for some time; planning, it was assumed by the great Elven bards, and the Dwarven kings watched as, year after year, they watched and waited. It was not in vain. For, twenty years after the treaty was hastily created, the demons attacked again - in force. The orcs and trolls fought it together; although the elves were, in theory, allies, they did not believe the demon story. A pity, perhaps, for some. The demons were ruthless killers; even the mighty orcs and bloodthirsty trolls had difficulty evening out the death toll. Eventually, though, the demons were fended off. All except the dead and wounded vanished. And it was then that the troll warlord and his orc companion decided to take hostages.
Amongst their hostages were freaks of nature. They took a girl with the ability to turn into a monster, who had slaughtered dozens with claws alone; a boy whose hands contained gemstones with magical energies in; an even more odd being, whose gender was unknown, with spiralling horns and skin made of rock. The shamans marked their foreheads with a seal, nullifying their powers, and then the long trek north began. They would prove that they were not lying.
Upon their arrival, the elves were astonished - shocked to silence - at the three captives with fury in their eyes. The prince ordered them tied up and questioned. Nothing needed to be said. War was about to begin.
There were a few questions, however. Will the alliance last long enough to see these beings off? Will they even get any answers out of these three captives? And, should they prove successful in their endeavors to slay the demons, will the age-old feud between the orcs and the elves continue, or will their peace treaty last forever?
OOC is here. Please post all character sheets there.
My pen has scribed words you cannot imagine;
My fingers stained black with ink.
Try as you may
You never can tame
A girl with words in her soul.
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The pulsing red light of the Netherworld shafts through those very human windows, their old glass twinkling and warping it in their deformities. It has faded a little in its age, but it still beams strong, stronger than even my father, whose mighty battle axe hangs above the fireplace. That blade is notched with remnants of his many battles, scarred like him for life. He cannot escape the past any more than I could escape his beatings as a child.
Outside, I can see how much more advanced we have become in recent years. Our technology has, admittedly, been taken from other dimensions, but it works with us. Demons were meant to be aristocratic, Earth-realm Victorians. It just works with us. Our home is part of a particularly rich-looking terrace, red brick with white trim, fancy windows covered with dark, dark blinds. They're open at the moment, and the Netherlight is shafting through in thin slices, lighting up all those little dust motes and making them look pretty. Pretty enough that I want to slice them into thin slithers.
Elsewhere in the room, the Revolution has certainly made its mark in our previously drab abode. Instead of that ghastly old grandfather clock, so out of time and never quite correct, there is a new, very up to date creature. Its hands are polished chrome, cogs whirling from its rather delicious little body. It really is such a darling little thing. That nasty old piano is there still, unfortunately; I don't really know why - it's been here since forever, and nobody can figure out how to get music out of it. Still, the furniture is that burnished mahogany with the very comfortable cushions in rich, dark colours. Almost like blood, and forests, and oceans, trapped for our pleasure.
Now I turn around, feeling extremely ridiculous in a tightly bound corset which restricts my breathing enough that should I even flex my stomach muscles, the entire thing would snap. It is rather tempting, but then again, I am in the company of a Man. Well, male demon. That foolish, chaste Victorian ettiquette has rubbed off on my parents far too much, you know. I do wish they could just knock it off, but no, they have to have the last word. There is the drawback of being back in civilisation; I do wish, though, that it would keep its nose out of my affairs.
Anyway, the Man is talking rather animatedly about something very boring when I recall those years I'd spent as a 'rebel'. Those were the days. Nobody told me what to do, save for myself. And he's talking about his glory days... and reliving them. Apparently there's a place that the warlord wants, for whatever reason. And he's enlisting soldiers.
They talk politely, laughing and drinking blood-wine while I sit and plan. I can escape, I've done it before. Shouldn't be too difficult to do it again, hm?


It took some time for Mari'Nah to fully awaken, in that prising, cold light of day which she so detested. Her eyes were used to the dim light of the Netherworld with its pulsating, demonic red glow, and so she released a feral hiss through pearly white teeth, tainted red with the blood she'd drawn in the battle that'd been - what, three, four days ago? Those eyes, so unused to the blindingly bright light, fluttered. Their only shield was the thick black eyelashes which were daintily quivering, like a melanistic butterfly perched upon a sunburnt peach.
Suddenly, they snapped open, revealing burnished bronze orbs with a core of rusted iron. Gold flecks glittered in the depths, before she blinked and swore loudly. Those burning black pits contracted sharply, painfully, as they struggled to deal with the extraordinarily bright world around her.
"Jesus fucking Christ, who turned the lights on?" she groaned, biting at her lower lip and shaking her thick mane of coal-black hair, matted with blood and dirt, out of her eyes. Slowly, she sat up, wiry muscles working beneath her russet skin to allow her to do so. Her defined abs, heavily bruised, were shown off by a small red leather top, held together by buckles, and her arm was bandaged heavily from where the arrow had pierced her skin; the demon hoped that the muscle was not damaged.
It was then that she realised she was being carried - or rather, dragged, along in some kind of mat. Useless, she might as well make herself even more so. Brushing her gaze upwards, she gazed at that blue sky. It was... incredible. How was it not red? Intrigued, she reached out, and then stopped. She just remembered her hands were bound, and with another muttered blasphemy, she laid back against whatever it was.
Then the light changed again. Golden, warm, but cold still in the sense that it was tinted with green. So many beautiful shapes - what were they? So... intriguing...
Her arm throbbing, and her gut aching from the broken rib, she wasn't paying attention as the orcs, trolls and whatever else there was in this incredibly weird place argued. They stopped after a little while, and she felt everything lurch once more. God, she felt sick.
My pen has scribed words you cannot imagine;
My fingers stained black with ink.
Try as you may
You never can tame
A girl with words in her soul.
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Kraveing_volkf
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Calmly the wind blew, brushing through the trees, lightly licking at the leaves. The winds causing the trees branches to dance and sway; their movements almost hypnotic in the morning light. The winds hit against a tent, hastily set up. Inside the tent lay a female troll, her shorter reddish hair spread across the ground behind her head.
Her light skin a pale blue-green, and her hands were split by two fingers and a thumb. The tips of her feet were split into two toes. Two smaller tusks sticking from her mouth and curling up pressing against her upper lip making them look more like long fang-like teeth than tusks.

A light yawn came from the woman as she stretched then slowly sat up. Her eyes a yellow hue, around them was a darker almost greenish patch. The dark green patch circled around the eyes and went down most of her face stopping about halfway down her cheek and going up to just past her hairline, the bridge of her nose splitting the patch down the middle of her head. Her hair going down to her shoulder then stopping.

She gave another stretch then stood and moved over grabbing her cloths. Her frame was thinner, her bust was about the largest thing on her body and it wasn't overly large. Her arms showing small muscles but nothing major. Her legs however were lithe, built more to show she cared more for balance and speed than damage.
She picked up her shirt and slipped her arms through their holes. Her shirt was more like a vest than a shirt, black in color. It covered her breasts, but showed the entire middle area of her body, a string tied toward the top kept it closed when she moved. She next slipped on a longer dress-like skirt. The skirt was longer going down to just above her ankles. It held a red weave design down it, but its primary color was black.

She then turned and started out of the tent, stopping to grab her mace before continuing out. The mace itself was made of iron with a cloth around the handle, a heavy ball at one end. The ball itself was in assuming with the exception of a large number of bumps in its design.

As she stepped out into the camp she sighed some, few were awake yet. The camp itself consisted of several tents, all hastily set up. The owners of the camp was a band of renegade Troll females, those who refused to accept their role in the old society. Sera was one of them now, and had been for some time.

(Sorry for it just ending but I kinda wound up with a blank on where to continue it XD)
Kyra

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Thanks to Tifa for Sig and Avi

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Deathly Innocence
A recreation story about a serial killer child
Finished up to chapter 5
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soulpelt
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February MOTM 2012
Down the sunlight grassy plain there walked a a figured built like a moutain wall and almost as dense. With steel armor that shined brightly in the sun Corgs-et Durmas of the Durmas tribe walked like a force of nature, his yellow eyes searching for some large animal to kill and eat, as he had not eating in several days. Sighing hugrily he said to himself, "Where is a lion or bear when you need one, or maybe an elf to piss me off. Atleast I's have an excuse to eat them then." Of course he was only joking about devouring an elf, eve nthough the Orcs, Trolls, and Elves were wary allies Corgs didn't trust those pointy ears anymore than a demon. Speaking of demons he had thought he had gotton on the trail of a lone one, but he had lost the trail after several days, the bastartd must have flew off.

Putting his hand to his black ram horn he wished for a meal of anykind, even a rabbit would be good right now. The neh heard a soft growling and as he trned around he saw the gift for which he had prayed for. A huge plains bear that looked hungry enough to eat Corgs and all his armor. Getting out a bastard sword he waited for the bear to charge. Which it did, with enough forve to break down a brick wall. Pointing his bastard sword at the bear he hoped to make his sword go through its stomach. How ever the bear, seeing Corgs plan, jumped up into the air and as it came down upon Corgs it slashed at his pig-like nose and ugly face.
THANKS TO TWISTED FER THE AWESOME AVVIE!!
don't Blink. Blink and you're Dead. Don't turn your Back. don't Look Away, and Don't blink. Good luck
He never raised his voice. That was the worst thing - the fury of a Time Lord - and then we discovered why. Why this Doctor, who had fought with gods and demons, why he had run away from us and hidden. He was being kind.
When a Good Man goes to War, Demons Run.
Tick Tock goes the clock, Even for The Doctor.....

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K'ethlean's reptillian eyes opened and contracted as her face was hit by the morning sun, her scales reflecting its glare like polished silver. It's amusing, she thought, as she lifted her body from the soft earth. that six, maybe eight years earlier, I'd never dream of sleeping on the bare ground like an animal.

She mused over this thought as she made her way to the nearby stream. Could she really call herself an elf? Elves didn't sleep on the ground, they didn't eat their meat cold, and they certainly didn't hatch from eggs! Logically, that would mean she wasn't an elf, and considering the latter, likely never was. Upon reaching the stream, she took a moment to stare at its distorted surface. Looking back was a draconic visage, not humanoid at all. The being had a short snout, filled with sharp teeth, and swept back were two short horns, between which was some sort of crest or frill of unknown function. It had long, hair, silver like the rest of its body, but it was thin, and sparse. K'ethlean stepped into the stream, shattering her reflection.

As she washed the dirt from her scales, her thoughts drifted in another direction. Assuming that she wasn't an elf, she must be a dragon, but dragons didn't stand upright, and they certainly didn't practice archery or swordsmanship. And clothes. She told herself, as she looked at the pile of crudely stitched furs on the bank. Bear hide can't protect me from anything my scales can't, so why do I wear it? She asked herself this, even as she put them over her body.

With a snort, she dismissed the question as trivial. A silly question. I'm obviously a bit of both, and a bit of neither, she told herself as she set off travelling to the northeast, for a destination unknown to herself.
Kazeyori hayaku!! Tobase seigi no yaiba oh!
In the name of creativity and originality, I WILL NOT join any RP that requires a picture of the character in their profile.
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The shady green canopy was of some aesthetic appeal to the shifter; the stunning green network of little veins and life, through which the sun was slowly permeating, was breathtaking. The only thing she'd seen that could ever match that ceaselessly shifting canopy of green and gold was a portal from the Netherworld into another region of what humans daringly called 'Hell'. That had been a vibrant whirligig of violet and blue, never changing but to add a dash of scarlet and oxidised chrome to the mixture. A shadow darted across the green, interrupting her thoughts and making odd noises which she didn't recognise.

This alien world is so beautifully bizarre, she thought, I can see why the Warlord wants it. So much green... Although he'd have to do something about the terrible light around here. And probably the manners of the natives.

Her eyes hardened a little as she turned her head to the side. It appeared that those pig-like, horned beasts were watching her. A brief growl, emnating from her chest, and not her mouth, rumbled through her body. Clenched teeth, peeled back from the lip, were flashed briefly while that rich, intimidating snarl rippled through her. She detested being stared at. The creatures merely guffawed, in a surprisingly hearty manner, while she tugged at the bindings. Why were they not ripping like they had done before?

The answer was clear after a moment or two's thought. They had sealed away her powers! Another grumble rolled through her chest. That was how they had dragged her away without her tearing their lungs out. That was how she was laying her, wasting away, without a single thing to say. Well, screw you!

In the next instant, her muscles had contracted and she pulled away from her captives with some force.
"Let me walk, at least!" she growled, and the orcs seemed to understand, in their grunting manner. Her bindings were loosened sufficiently that she could stand without the trailing hides dragging her, and while those were rolled up and piled onto the nearest horse, she slipped her deceptively small hands out of the sinew rope. A sharp bark of laughter escaped her throat, and she brought her hand up quickly to wipe away the seal which agitated the Beast so. The crumbled paste came away easily in her hands, and she gave another cackle.

"So long, suckers," she laughed crudely, and with a powerful blast of her strong legs, she was amongst the canopy. No Orc would even consider climbing those trees; they were far too heavy. So now she was free. Hah!
My pen has scribed words you cannot imagine;
My fingers stained black with ink.
Try as you may
You never can tame
A girl with words in her soul.
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That Butler
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This roleplay is closed due to inactivity or by request of the Game Master. Please contact one of the Roleplaying Moderators to have it reinstated.

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